Page 33 of Payback

She tilted her head to the side. “A bit young but—” A delicate huff escaped her nostrils. “What am I talking about? You’re only sixteen.”

“Seventeen,” I said.

“Of course. I forget that Henry is younger than his friends.” She looped her arm through mine. “Let’s go and try it on, then we can accessorize.”

Shopping with Mrs. Bourneville reminded me of the days I would spend with Mom before she remarried. Back then, she couldn’t afford to shop in a London department store, but there was a togetherness that I thought I’d lost forever. With Mrs. Bourneville, it was like I was her best friend, daughter, dress-up doll, and the source of gossip for her favorite subject: Henry.

The ladies’ shoe department had a special, where they served a glass of champagne for every customer who made a purchase. As soon as the server, a middle-aged lady, caught sight of Mrs. Bourneville, she rushed over with two glasses.

“Thank you, Felicity. May I introduce my son’s girlfriend, Miss Emilia Hobson of New York?”

The older woman’s brows rose for a microsecond, as though the pictures of Henry and Blake’s romp had been etched in her mind, but the expression disappeared so quickly, I almost imagined it.

She inclined her head. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Hobson.”

By the end of the shopping spree, I had a pair of nude shoes, a chunky cuff bracelet in rose gold, and a matching pair of teardrop earrings. She would have bought me more, but I really wanted to see Henry.

* * *

Mr. Bourneville’s angry rant filled the air as we stepped out of the elevator and walked through the parlor. I turned to Mrs. Bourneville, who sighed. “I had hoped they would reconcile their differences by now, but it seems Oscar’s temper has flared again.”

I chewed my bottom lip and gripped the handles of my shopping bags. “Is he always like this?”

Her gaze fell. “With Henry, yes.”

“And now you want to antagonize Trommel?” yelled Mr. Bourneville from beyond the door.

“Why?” screeched Aunt Idette.

Henry muttered something I couldn’t hear. Largely because he wasn’t screaming at the top of his voice.

My heart rate doubled. Why were they talking about Rudolph? Mrs. Bourneville and I hurried through the door and down the hallway. We reached a white door and stopped.

“What did you say, boy?” snarled Mr. Bourneville.

“I can’t believe it,” said Aunt Idette.

“You brought this on yourself,” Henry replied. “First, you swindled him by saying the ransom was twice the amount you paid out, then you refused to refund him. That’s why he released those pictures onto the internet.”

“What nerve,” growled Mr. Bourneville. “You, who stole from your family and then slapped us in the face by taking it up the arse from a boy.”

“The nerve of that boy!” said Aunt Idette.

I raised my hand to push open the door. To storm into that room and halt that awful conversation.

Mrs. Bourneville held me back. “Henry has to learn to stand up to his father,” she whispered. “Or he will be a follower his entire life.”

My shoulders sagged. I’d never seen Henry in this light before. In the academy, he had been the captain of the rugby team and one of the triumvirate. Edward appeared to be the leader of the trio, but I couldn’t tell whether it was because of his natural leadership or because he had been friends with Blake and Henry before they had become friends with each other. I shook off those thoughts. Henry wasn’t a follower, he was just… quiet.

Mr. Bourneville continued his rant, with Aunt Idette acting as hype-man with loud agreements and the occasional jibe.

“Get out of my sight,” Mr. Bourneville snarled.

Mrs. Bourneville grabbed my arm and pulled me into a powder room. Her shoulders drooped, and her face flushed with sadness. “Do you see what I mean?”

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. What could I do to help Henry stand up to his father?

Chapter 10